


Don't Bet on It

by mirror_cannibal



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bottom Oikawa, Crying, Forced Ejaculation, Forced Orgasm, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Lies, M/M, Nipple Play, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Groping, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pain, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, THE MAIN SHIP IS IWAOI, Top Ushijima, Twisted, Ushiwaka is Out of Character, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 10:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8841421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirror_cannibal/pseuds/mirror_cannibal
Summary: “You can never hear anyone out, Oikawa. You’re so selfish in that way, you know?”"I don’t like you, Ushiwaka, and I never will! Now let me go already!”“I really do love you, Oikawa. You’re beautiful. Even when you’re in so much pain, there’s still a beauty to you.”---How much can Oikawa's pride really handle? When push comes to shove and the impossible happens, Oikawa's not so sure what to do anymore. Who will he turn to, when it becomes too much to handle on his own? Will a childhood friend be able to lessen the pain?A story of Oikawa being forced to lean on Iwaizumi, despite his "insignificant pride".





	1. Unrequited Love

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Ushijima's character is twisted and bastardized; don't read for the UshiOi 
> 
> This fic is centered around IwaOi ^_^

Oikawa sat on the bench in the locker room, sighing into his hands. “It wasn’t your fault,” he heard Iwaizumi say. Oikawa didn’t respond—he _couldn’t_ respond—and he heard his best friend sigh and walk away. The door closed softly, gently. In the silence, Oikawa could feel the panic of being alone squeeze at his heart. _But it_ was _my fault,_ he wanted to scream. _It was._

He lifted his head, feeling hot tears against his face but not remembering when they had started falling. He forced himself to his feet, and began to mechanically go through the motions of changing— _pull off this shirt, put on that shirt. Pull off these shorts, put on those pants._ His fingers were numb, fumbling as he struggled to pull the waistline of his sweats over his hips.

Oikawa found himself in front of one of the mirrors, leaning his forehead against the cool glass, staring into his own reddened eyes. “It _was_ my fault,” he whispered to himself. “It was.”

Eventually he steeled himself enough to rub the pathetic tears from his cheeks and grab his bag, making his way out of the locker room. A familiar silhouette stood in the hallway outside, leaning against the wall.

“What do you want, Ushiwaka?” Oikawa growled out, glaring at the taller brunet. The loss against Karasuno was still fresh in Oikawa’s mind, and he really didn’t want to deal with the condescending tone of the other captain. 

Ushijima met his glare evenly, with a carefully neutral expression. “I keep telling you, Oikawa,” he said softly, his voice surprisingly gentle—gentler than Oikawa would’ve thought possible. “If you’d just joined the stronger school—”

“No!” Oikawa quickly cut him off, his anger rising quickly. _I don’t need to hear this. Not here, not now. Not ever._ “I joined Aoba Johsai. End of story. You don’t have to keep bringing this up—I’m not switching schools.”

Ushijima sighed at that, shifting his weight. “Look, Oikawa,” he breathed, his gaze hard. “There’s something I really need to tell you.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes, dropping his bag to the floor so that he could spread his arms dramatically. “What?” he cried, “What could _possibly_ be so important for you to tell me, _right_ now? What is it, Ushiwaka? What?”

A small frown was the only response Ushijima had to Oikawa’s sarcastic tone. “Oikawa,” he said seriously, his voice in its usual unperturbed monotone. “It _is_ important. I should have told you years ago.” Oikawa scowled at him, but said nothing, allowing the taller brunet to continue. “Oikawa…I think…” Ushijima hesitated, and Oikawa let out a loud sigh.

“I can’t stand here all day, waiting for you to spit out this supposed _‘important information’_ , Ushiwaka,” he snapped, the frustration building up. _I really want to just punch him right now. I don’t need this._ “Say it, or let me leave.”

“Fine, then.” Ushijima crossed his arms. “Oikawa, I like you.”

Oikawa wrinkled his brow, squinting at the spiker. “Huh?" There was no change in the other captain's stance or expression. "Are you…serious?”

“Yes.” Ushijima stared straight into Oikawa’s eyes, his expression serious and composed. “I’ve liked you since the first time I saw you play. And then…despite your horrible personality, it seems I’ve actually fallen for you.”

Oikawa shook his head, trying to organize his thoughts. “Wait, wait…” He was used to getting confessions, of course, but a confession was the last thing he expected from the seemingly-emotionless spiker in front of him. “ _You_ …actually…like me? Like, in a romantic way?” Ushijima gave a single nod, his face not changing. Oikawa let out a breath, his mind muddled yet still trying to make sense of everything.

“Do you…” Ushijima hesitated for a moment before continuing, “return my feelings?”

“Are you kidding?” Oikawa immediately shot back, his voice climbing high with disbelief as his anger began to take over. “You can’t just drop that on me and expect me to say ‘yes’! What’s wrong with you? And why would I return your feelings? I _hate_ you!” He could hear his own shrill voice echoing through the empty hallways.

Ushijima’s calm face finally cracked. A sharp jerk of muscle brought his lips down, curling his mouth into a menacing scowl. “Hate me?” he repeated, his voice soft. “Do you know, Oikawa, how prepared I was for that?” He took a step forward. “Do you _know,_ Oikawa, that I was expecting that exact response?” He took another step, and Oikawa could see the glimmer of tears in the spiker’s eyes. Oikawa slid a foot backwards, but his heel knocked against the wall and by then Ushijima was too close and the setter was trapped.

“S-Stop,” Oikawa stammered, the light of anger in the other’s eyes intimidating him. _I have no escape, what the hell is he planning…?_

“Do you _know,_ Oikawa,” Ushijima continued, his voice getting steadily louder, his face a foot or so from Oikawa’s, and Oikawa realized just how much he hated the sound of his own name coming out of the spiker's mouth, “that it still hurts so much, just to hear you say that? Even after all the times I played it out in my head?”

Ushijima was too close, way too close. Oikawa instinctively raised a hand to push him back, his fingers meeting the fabric of the spiker’s shirt. Ushijima stopped leaning in. Oikawa’s back was flush against the wall, and his breath was coming way too fast, and he didn’t know what he looked like but he could imagine some wild light of confusion and anger in his own brown eyes. He held his hand against Ushijima’s chest, not pushing strong enough to hold him at that distance, but enough so that the spiker got the hint to stop.

“Stop,” Oikawa panted, not liking the way Ushijima’s face was so close, not liking the way he could see every emotion flashing through Ushijima’s eyes, and not liking the way his own heart felt like it was about to burst from the shock of it all.

There was a glint of anger in Ushijima’s eyes. “Why not just hear me out?” the ace murmured, the dark pupils of his eyes almost overtaking the brown irises. “You can never hear anyone out, Oikawa. It’s always just what _you_ think, just what _you_ want to hear. You’re so selfish in that way, you know? If you could just hear me out, I’m sure you’ll change your mind.” Before Oikawa could react, Ushijima was already leaning forward again, and within his fit of panic Oikawa realized that their lips were touching.

He shoved his hand hard against Ushijima’s chest, but the stronger player didn’t budge—instead, Ushijima brought his hands to the sides of Oikawa’s head, entangling his fingers in the soft brown hair and tilting the setter’s head to kiss him again. _What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,_ Oikawa screeched in his head, struggling to breathe as his heart pumped faster than he’d ever thought possible.

Unable to get enough air through his nose, Oikawa found himself opening his mouth helplessly for oxygen that wasn’t there. Instead, Ushijima took the opportunity to slide his tongue into the other captain’s mouth, and Oikawa felt his knees buckle beneath him. Ushijima’s hand gripped his waist, keeping him pressed against the wall. Oikawa’s skin shivered beneath the strong grip.

After what felt like an eternity, Ushijima finally pulled away. Oikawa panted helplessly, gasping for air, his hands sliding against the wall behind him as if searching for something to hold himself up. “W-What—” he gasped, his chest heaving. Ushijima tightened his hold on Oikawa’s waist, his fingers pressing in against the soft skin.

“I told you,” he said softly, “I like you, Oikawa. Do you like me yet?” 

Oikawa sucked in another desperate breath, his fingernails scraping against the wall behind him. “No!” he growled, struggling to draw in enough air to keep his world from spinning. _Why am I so light-headed?_ “I don’t _like_ you, Ushiwaka, and I never will! Now let me go already!” 

With a carefully composed face, Ushijima took a half-step back, his hand falling from Oikawa’s waist. The setter slid quickly from his spot against the wall, breathing a little easier once he gained a little distance from the taller male. It didn’t look like Ushijima was going to say anymore, so Oikawa cautiously circled around him to pick up his bag from where he’d dropped it beside the locker room door a few moments ago.

Suddenly he felt Ushijima’s grip around his hips, and he couldn’t help the startled yelp that jumped from his throat. He heard the locker room door open, and then he was being pushed inside, feeling the hardness of the floor against his shoulder as he lost his balance and fell. The door slammed shut. 

“I suppose,” Ushijima’s intimidating monotone went on, “that I’ll have to make you like me.”

Oikawa gasped when he felt a hand grip his knee, holding his left leg to the ground, while another hand crept up to hold his right hip. Ushijima leaned down over him, forcing their lips together even as Oikawa tried to squirm out of the too-strong grasp. He froze when he felt Ushijima’s hand slip under the fabric of his shirt, rubbing against the skin of his waist.

“Let me go!” Oikawa gasped, his voice rising to a desperate squeak as Ushijima’s hand ran over his skin, and in a flurry of motion Oikawa’s shirt was pulled over his head. 

“Sorry,” Ushijima replied, though he didn’t sound very sorry at all. “I need to show you how I feel.”

“You don’t need to show me, I get it!” Oikawa yelped as Ushijima’s finger circled his nipple, flinching when the sensitive pink bud was squeezed lightly. His face felt like it was on fire, and his skin crawled with every touch. “Just let me _go!_ ”

Ushijima ignored Oikawa’s desperate pleads, instead slipping a hand past the waistlines of the setter’s sweatpants and boxers. Oikawa jerked his hips, sucking his breath through his teeth as his entire body fought to escape the offending touch. “Stop it!” he hissed, his voice shaking. Ushijima bent his head down, and Oikawa clenched his teeth when he felt the wet warmth of the spiker’s tongue against his nipple. “Don’t,” he gasped, finding his fingers tangled in Ushijima’s hair, struggling to pull him away.

Oikawa’s body jerked again when he felt Ushijima’s other hand join the first, slipping the waist of his sweatpants down his legs. “Stop!” he yelped, trying to pull away from Ushijima but the fabric tangled around his ankles made it hard to move, and his brain felt like it was full of fuzz, and his limbs weren’t responding the way they usually did. His breath hitched when Ushijima’s hand gripped his length, the ace’s thumb rubbing against the sensitive tip.

“P-Please,” Oikawa heard himself whisper, his entire body shuddering. He cracked his eyes open, not sure when he’d closed them, to see Ushijima licking his own fingers. “No,” Oikawa breathed, as the spiker lowered his saliva-coated fingers. “No, no, nonononono—” his voice broke off into a startled sound as Ushijima pushed a single finger into his entrance. The intrusion felt alien and wrong, and it sent displeasure coursing through Oikawa’s body.

Oikawa barely noticed when Ushijima paused to pull the sweatpants entirely off his legs, casting them aside. He lay entirely naked before the spiker, who looked down on him and said softly, “You were always so beautiful, Oikawa,” before beginning to thrust his finger in and out. Oikawa clenched his teeth, struggling not to make any noises as his muscles tightened around Ushijima’s finger. 

“Relax, Oikawa,” Ushijima spoke gently, moving his finger in and out quickly as Oikawa gasped for breath beneath him. “Just relax. It won’t hurt, I promise.”

“Just stop it!” Oikawa struggled to speak coherently between the pants and occasional yelps that escaped him. “This is— _ahh_ —going too far! _Hnng…_ ” Ushijima slid a second finger in, quickly resuming his steady thrusts, and Oikawa let out a soft moan at the uncomfortable feeling. Suddenly Ushijima’s other hand began moving up and down on Oikawa’s length, and the setter’s entire body spasmed at the feeling, his breath hitching and shuddering through his lungs. 

The floor was hard against his shoulder blades and the air felt too warm against his skin. His muscles were burning, and he could feel the sweat sliding down his body. “Relax,” Ushijima murmured again, his breath hot against Oikawa’s chest, “Just relax.” Oikawa’s fingernails scraped against the floor as Ushijima began scissoring his fingers inside, pulling and stretching the tight muscles. Oikawa couldn’t stop the soft groan that grated over the back of his throat and fell past his lips.

“You don’t dislike it,” Ushijima stated softly, his expression as unreadable as ever but a light of desire in his eyes. 

Oikawa glared up at him. _I want to punch you in the face,_ he thought, but his muscles were shaking too badly and he couldn’t control them. “I hate it,” he growled, satisfied by the way the words didn’t waver, the syllables staying strong and confident throughout the sentence. 

Ushijima frowned slightly, and Oikawa let out a half-moan, half-yelp sound as a third finger was pushed into him. “I just need to try harder, then,” Ushijima murmured softly, seemingly to himself, and Oikawa let out another startled whimper when Ushijima thrust the three fingers in and out, in and out. “I promise, Oikawa,” Ushijima whispered, “I’ll make you like me.” Ushijima bent down, and Oikawa flinched as he felt a wet warmth against the head of his length. 

“N-No,” he stammered, trying to twist his hips away, but Ushijima’s left hand dug into his pelvis, holding him in place, while the ace’s right hand continued to stretch him out. Oikawa couldn’t control the moans that now escaped him with every other exhale. The heat danced across his skin, setting his nerve on fire, and his muscles just wouldn’t relax—with every touch they would clench up or contract. The exhaustion, physically and mentally, was beginning to grate at Oikawa’s mind already. 

Ushijima’s tongue swirled around his tip, and Oikawa jerked his hips at the feeling. He scraped his fingers across the hard floor again, clenching his teeth hard to muffle the noises that kept escaping him. “Stop it!” he gasped out as soon as he had enough breath to, and Ushijima paused, lifting his head to look at Oikawa with glazed eyes.

“Do you not like it?” Ushijima murmured, pulling his fingers from Oikawa’s entrance, at which the setter let out a sigh of relief. 

“No, I _don’t_ like it!” Oikawa yelped, his voice shrill. “Please, just let me go already! This is rape, don’t you get it? Just stop…” Oikawa trailed off. _What is he doing?!_ Ushijima was pulling his own shirt over his head, tossing it aside. “What…” Oikawa swallowed. “What are you doing?” The spiker quickly cast off his shorts along with his boxers, leaning down over Oikawa again.

“Getting undressed,” Ushijima answered matter-of-factly. “So that I can have sex with you properly.”

“No, no, no!” Oikawa almost shrieked, “Just let me _go! Please!_ ” he added desperately, but Ushijima didn’t seem to care about his protests. Instead, Oikawa felt the tip of the spiker’s erection press in between his legs, just barely touching his stretched-out entrance. “No, no,” he mumbled, putting his arms across his face, feeling the harsh sting of tears in his eyes. “Please, no, not this, anything but—” he broke off into a hoarse scream as Ushijima pushed in to the hilt, in a single smooth motion. 

The pain was almost unbearable. Despite all of the stretching, Oikawa still felt like all of his muscles were on fire, tearing to accommodate the overly large intruder. He felt tears of pain run down his face as his entire body shuddered from the unexpected feelings. It all felt so incredibly wrong, and he fought the sudden overwhelming urge to vomit. 

“I’m sorry,” Ushijima panted, gasping his words out in between desperate inhales. “I can’t go slowly from here.” With that, he pulled out then slammed back in again, drawing another scream of pain from Oikawa’s aching throat. The scream dissolved into a sob halfway through, and his shoulders began to shake.

“St-top, ple-ease,” Oikawa stuttered through his tears, the breaths shuddering unevenly through his lungs as his chest heaved and the sweat ran down his skin. His muscles contracted over and over again, until he felt like they were about to leap out of his skin.

“I’m sorry,” Ushijima repeated, thrusting out then in again, repeating the motion. A groan of pain escaped Oikawa with every thrust, and he was certain he was being torn in two. He bit his lip to prevent the groans from being heard, but the sounds still resonated deep in his throat and the biting only added a sharp pain to yet another part of his body. _I can’t take this much pain,_ he thought helplessly.

“Stop, stop,” he sobbed, scraping his fingernails against the floor and feeling them break and splinter from the force. Suddenly he found his mind wandering, thinking of his team, how they were probably waiting out in the bus for him. _Oh, God, someone please come and get me,_ he pleaded in his mind, hoping to psychically send the message to one of his teammates. Knowing Iwaizumi, though, the spiker would probably tell the team to wait as long as it took for Oikawa to calm down after the disappointing loss. _Fuck you, Iwa-chan, come help me!_

“I really am sorry it had to be this way,” Ushijima’s voice broke into the blissful distraction of Oikawa’s thoughts, tearing him back to the overwhelming pain of reality, “but I really do love you, Oikawa. You’re beautiful. Even when you’re in so much pain, there’s still a beauty to you.” Oikawa glared at Ushijima through tear-filled eyes, clenching his teeth against the screams of pain that struggled in his lungs.

“Fuck—you!” Oikawa spat out in between Ushijima’s powerful thrusts. He felt like his insides were on fire, burning and roiling in agony. 

“Oikawa,” Ushijima murmured softly, drawing a hand gently across Oikawa’s cheek. The setter’s skin crawled underneath the touch. Ushijima brought his hand back, wrapping it around Oikawa’s length.

“Ah!” Oikawa yelped as the grip tightened around his most sensitive part, and the spiker began to jerk him off. “Stop! No!” He grit his teeth as his body contracted once, twice, then again. His muscles were spastically clenching and unclenching at random moments, all over his body. Ushijima’s hand moved quickly, giving an almost painful yet undeniable pleasure. In what felt like seconds, Oikawa was already near the edge. “No, no, no,” he mumbled, tears trickling from beneath his closed eyelids as he kept his eyes squeezed shut, as if it would block out what was happening to him.

With a few more hard strokes, Oikawa felt his climax hit. With a groan of half-pain, half-pleasure, Oikawa felt the electricity run through his spine, causing his back to arch and his legs to curl around Ushijima’s back. His body contracted again and again as he felt his own cum against his lower stomach, sliding uncomfortably across his skin. “Ahh!” he cried out, his toes curling and his now-broken fingernails scratching against the floor again.

“So beautiful,” he heard Ushijima gasp out, and suddenly the spiker’s hands moved to Oikawa’s legs, pulling them away from his own body to spread them wider. Oikawa groaned as Ushijima hooked his hands under Oikawa’s knees, holding the setter’s long legs up and bracing his own knees on the floor in order to continue pounding into the shorter brunet. Sobs wracked Oikawa’s shoulders now, heaving gasps of pain and humiliation tearing themselves from his lungs forcefully. “I’m going to—” Ushijima gasped.

Oikawa could only shake his head, his throat too choked with tears to allow any words, but it made no difference to the stronger brunet anyway. Ushijima slammed in hard to the hilt, and Oikawa caught his breath when he felt the spiker release deep inside of him. “Ugh!” Oikawa half-gagged at the feeling of the hot cum in him, a trickle of which began to slide down his thigh when Ushijima pulled out. Shaking, Oikawa felt the disgust rising in his throat and knew he couldn’t hold it back, so he used all the energy he had left to force himself onto his hands and knees.

For a moment Ushijima and his deep voice faded into the background, and all Oikawa was focused on was breathing. The bile burned its way up his throat and in the back of his mouth, and suddenly his entire body heaved and his stomach fully rejected all of its contents onto the locker room floor. Ushijima’s voice was getting louder, but Oikawa couldn’t focus on it, didn’t want to focus on it. He was able to draw in a quick breath of air before his stomach clenched again and another wave of acid escaped his throat. He gagged for a moment until he was finally able to catch his breath, his entire body shaking.

Slowly, Ushijima’s voice became clearer. “…you ok? Oikawa, answer me, are you ok?”

“Leave me alone!” Oikawa screamed, whipping his head around to glare at the brunet. “Just go already! I hate you!” He couldn’t stop his body from trembling. His arms barely supported his weight. “Leave me alone!” he gasped out, tears stinging in his eyes. 

Ushijima hesitated for a moment. “I just…” he murmured, “I just wanted to…to show you…what we could have…”

“I don’t want it!” Oikawa refused to look at Ushijima again, instead fixing his gaze on his own broken fingernails, which cut into his clenched fist. “Just leave! I don’t want to see you!”

There was a moment of hesitation, and Ushijima slowly and softly said, “…Oikawa...” Oikawa choked down sobs, refusing to meet the spiker’s gaze or answer. After what felt like a century, the setter finally heard Ushijima getting to his feet, moving around, most likely to retrieve his clothes. Oikawa curled in on himself, the stench of his own vomit reaching his nose, and didn’t move a muscle even after he heard the locker room door open and close.

“What the fuck,” he whispered to himself, his head whipping around to make sure Ushijima had really gone. “What the fuck. What the fuck.” His head was pounding, his mind spinning. Tears escaped his eyes, one after the other, streaming down his cheeks. His entire body was shaking, trembling with rage and humiliation and a mixture of what felt like every emotion in the world. _Why did it have to happen to me?_ he thought as he cried softly to himself. _Why did it have to be me?_

Stomach clenching in disgust, he forced himself to his feet. Immediately, his knees buckled and he fell against a row of lockers, the cold metal slamming against his shoulder. The initial pain of the impact barely even registered in his mind as the stabbing, grinding agony in his hips screamed the second he tried to move his legs. Another heavy sob shook his shoulders, and he leaned his forehead against the locker, hoping to clear his mind somehow. He took deep breaths, fighting to push the panic down.

“My team is waiting for me,” he whispered softly, glancing around for his bag before he remembered that it had been left outside the locker room, dropped when Ushijima had shoved him in and shut the door behind them. He cast his gaze around the room, his eyes locking on the shower stalls against the wall. It wasn’t that far away—ten feet or so. _I have to get cleaned up. I can’t face my team like this._

Throat choked with emotion, Oikawa began to crawl to the showers, moving with the tiniest of movements, as to minimize the amount of pain that burst up around his hips. It didn’t take him long at all, surprisingly, and before he knew it, his sweat-soaked hair was pressed against the tile of one of the shower stalls. He blindly reached up a hand, twisting a knob to turn on the spray of water. 

“Ah!” Oikawa let out a soft sound of surprise when the water immediately drenched him in coldness, and he quickly reached up again to twist the other knob. In no time, the water was evening out to a nice warm temperature. He sat on the tile for a few moments, allowing the steady streams to run over his exhausted muscles and wash the sweat from his skin. He tilted his head back, feeling the water wash over his hair and face as it turned steadily hotter.

Trying his best to literally forget everything that had just happened between him and Ushijima, Oikawa tugged a hand through his hair and shut the water off. _I can’t…I can’t…_ His throat closed up again and he couldn’t stop the tears from clouding his eyes. Struggling to breathe normally, he reached around for one of the towels that hung outside the shower stalls, and he buried his face in the soft fabric.

“Ahhhhh!” he suddenly screamed, his voice lost in the thickness of the towel. _“Ahhhhh!”_ he screamed again, his voice muffled but still hoarse and breaking with rage—both at himself and Ushijima. “Fuck you!” he yelled into the towel, syllables broken by sobs, _“Fuck you, Ushiwaka!”_ He dissolved into tears once more.

Oikawa wasn’t sure just how much time he spent sobbing into the towel, but when the tears eventually stopped, his body was already dry. He made to crawl towards his clothes, abandoned on the floor a few feet away, and realized that the pain had mostly faded. The joints still held some residual traces of agony that fired up with every movement, but the pain in the muscles had worn away, turning just to simple exhaustion.

Moving slowly, his hands as numb as his mind, he dragged his boxers over his legs, fitting the waistband around his hips. The sweatpants followed suit, and then he slid his sneakers onto his feet. His shoulders still aching from where they’d been pushed against the ground, he struggled to pull the T-shirt over his head and fit his arms through the sleeves. Once more, he found himself in front of the mirrors, though his eyes were considerably redder now. He stared at his own reflection. Red, swollen eyes. Pale face. Wet, clumped lashes. Drawn, haggard expression. Pursed, shaking lips. Not to mention his entire body was still trembling uncontrollably. 

_What a lovely image of a team captain._


	2. Daijoubu?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I'm a day early and the chapter's short and shitty but I'm going to clear up some things about this story and its plot in the end notes, so stay tuned ^_^

Choking down another sob, Oikawa took a deep breath to take control of himself again. His knuckles were white, his shaking fingers gripping the sides of the ceramic sink tightly. He gathered the energy to push himself from the sink, and began to stumble across the locker room. He almost fell against the door, and his grip closed tightly on the handle. Sucking in another breath, he shoved it open, only to be greeted by Matsukawa. The third year took a quick step back—not a surprise, seeing as he’d just almost been smacked in the face with a door—then seemed to a double take on Oikawa.

“Oikawa…” he spoke hesitantly, “Are you…ok?”

“Fine, fine!” Oikawa automatically laughed, though the sound was unnatural and grating even to his own ears. “Let’s just…” he swallowed, then cleared his throat and spoke quickly, before his voice could give out again, “Let’s just go, ok?”

Matsukawa nodded easily, though his expression betrayed his suspicions. “You were gone for a while,” he said softly, “We were starting to get worried. Iwaizumi kept saying you were fine, and just to give you time. But eventually…he told me to come and get you. Make sure you were ok.”

Oikawa nodded along with him, as if he was listening, though his mind was somewhere else. “I just needed to think,” he mumbled, the lie burning on his tongue. 

“Of course, of course,” Matsukawa immediately agreed, then held up his hand, which held the strap of Oikawa’s dangling bag. “I’ll carry it for you. Let’s head back to the bus, ok? The coach said you don’t have to worry about talking to the team—he knows you’ll take the loss harder than the rest of us. He said to give you a few days off.”

Oikawa didn’t even attempt to argue, even though the thought of not practicing volleyball for days on end caused his stomach to knot up. _Maybe…maybe I do need some time._ He shoved thoughts of Ushijima out of his head as he limped along beside Matsukawa. 

Eventually, the other third-year brought up the setter’s strange gait. “Are you ok?” Matsukawa asked gently, his gaze drifting meaningfully down Oikawa’s legs.

“Fine,” Oikawa huffed again, “It’s just…my knee. A little. It’s not bad.” His sentences were short and terse, and Matsukawa clearly got the message and stopped talking. Oikawa found himself thinking that he was glad it wasn’t Iwaizumi who’d gone to get him. _He would be able to tell something was really wrong…what would I say to him then? Would I tell him? Would I lie? He would know if I was lying. What would I do?_

Finally, the two exited the seemingly-endless building and made their way across the parking lot to the bus. _How the hell am I going to make it up those stairs?_ Oikawa suddenly panicked. Matsukawa stepped in front of him, quickly climbing the steps then holding out a hand to help up Oikawa. He took it gratefully, letting the other third-year pull him up until he was on the bus.

Oikawa cast his gaze over the rest of his team, sitting silently in the seats. Some stared out the window, some looked at him with either concern or matching sorrow on their face. Sorrow from their loss. Suddenly, the loss didn’t seem to matter much to Oikawa anymore. He bit his lip, muttering an almost silent “Sorry,” though he wasn’t sure who it was directed to or what he was apologizing for, before following Matsukawa down the aisle. 

_Iwa-chan’s looking at me._ Oikawa glanced up, meeting the gentle gray gaze of his best friend, who slid over in his seat and motioned for the setter to sit beside him. Though his first instinct was to obey and to take comfort from his childhood friend’s presence, Oikawa found himself worrying about how much Iwaizumi would really pick up, and how much he would figure out. 

With a quick shake of his head towards the spiker, Oikawa slid into the empty seat behind his friend, his hips screaming in pain when he sat down. Ignoring all further attempts at communication from his teammates, Oikawa directed his gaze out the window and sat silently, alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok I'm just going to copy and paste stuff I already commented to other people so forgive me for being lazy as fuck but I want to clear up this shit storm stat (give me kudos for alliteration lol):
> 
> I don't dislike Ushijima as a character (he's actually one of my favorites) and honestly I just like the idea of Oikawa growing closer to Iwaizumi while having to lean on him (whether that be emotionally or otherwise). I didn't mean to offend UshiOi shippers with this fic, I just wanted an excuse to break Oikawa down mentally so that he would be forced to call out for help, which is something his pride wouldn't really allow under normal circumstances.
> 
> (P.S. If you've read my other fic "Substitute Light" you'll know what I'm talking about with Oikawa having to lean more on Iwaizumi)
> 
> This is not a fic centered around UshiOi. This fic is centered around IwaOi. The confusion was completely my fault, as I stupidly did not specify the actual plot of the story in either the tags or the summary. I definitely don't blame anyone for being mad, as this was totally on me. I've taken out the UshiOi tag and I've added some more warnings, and hopefully that'll lessen the ferocity of the shit storm that I unintentionally caused.
> 
> Again: This fic is NOT centered around UshiOi. I really am sorry for putting that tag, as it probably caused a ton of "what the fuck is she even writing about, this isn't UshiOi"s. This was completely my fault, and I'm sorry. 
> 
> Next (hopefully longer) chapter will be out...next Friday? Maybe?


	3. Daijoubu.

Oikawa blinked his eyes open, peering over the layers of sheets he’d piled on top of himself the night before to look at the clock. _It’s only 4 in the morning…and I don’t even have practice today…Why did I wake up?_ He sighed into the blankets, shifting his body and shutting his eyes again. 

The night before had been fairly uneventful after the bus had dropped them off at Aoba Johsai. The coach had taken Oikawa aside, and told him to take a few days off from practice, but not to get too down about something they couldn’t change now. Oikawa had nodded numbly, not trusting his tongue to say anything. After the way he’d cut himself off during the bus ride, no one had bothered trying to talk to him—aside from Iwaizumi, of course.

The spiker had asked Oikawa if he wanted to walk home with him. They did every day, obviously, since they lived on the same street. But, for the first time, Oikawa had simply shaken his head no and walked on, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder and forcing his exhausted and trembling legs to walk him home. Iwaizumi hadn’t said anything after that, only staring silently after the setter. 

Oikawa shivered now, pulling the blankets around his body, as he recalled how he’d felt his friend’s gaze prickling across the back of his neck, and the disappointment and guilt and pity and intense sorrow all mixed into those beautiful gray eyes when Oikawa had just brushed him off wordlessly. _They all think I’m this broken up about our loss. What should I really tell them? Anything?_

Memories began to flood his mind—memories he didn’t want to remember. With a sigh, Oikawa sank down into his mattress once more, squeezing his eyes shut and begging for the sweet release from reality that dreams usually granted. _Or just a dreamless sleep. Yeah, that’d be great. Let me sleep…no dreams, please…just sleep…_

He drifted into a strange mixture of consciousness and unconsciousness, of dreams and memories. He was certain he was stuck in a never-ending nightmare—though he wasn’t sure if the nightmare was a dream or his own reality.

  


* * *

  


Oikawa jumped when his alarm went off. Heart pounding wildly, he reached over to shut it off. He let out a breath, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. He glanced over at the clock. The numbers glowed annoyingly back at him. “There’s no fucking way,” he muttered into his sheets, “I’m not leaving this bed today.”

He reached over to pull his phone free from its charging cord, squinting at the bright light when the screen turned on. After a few tries with still-sleepy fingers, he got the phone unlocked and texted Iwaizumi that he wasn’t feeling well, and therefore wouldn’t be going to school. Hitting send, Oikawa let out a sigh as he lay back against his pillow again, letting the phone get lost in the layers of sheets.

Iwaizumi was the only person he had to inform, anyway. He shared the same class with his friend, and the volleyball team as well, so Iwaizumi would be able to pass on the information wherever it was necessary. Oikawa’s parents were out of the country, and they trusted Iwaizumi to take care of their son while they were gone. In a way, it was sort of humorous—the way Oikawa’s best friend had been trusted to become his replacement parent. _He certainly acts the part, too…_

Oikawa’s eyes had just drifted shut when his phone vibrated annoyingly, interrupting his thoughts. With a grumble, he slid his hand through the sheets, eventually coming in contact with the device—on which a message from Iwaizumi was displayed: _‘Feel better Shittykawa’_

“Yeah, I’ll try,” Oikawa mumbled aloud, blinking as another message came in: _‘I’ll stop by after school.’_ Oikawa just let out another sigh, tossing the phone aside and burying himself in his sheets again. If he could just fall asleep…

_“I like you, Oikawa. Do you…return my feelings?”_

_“I just need to try harder, then. I promise, Oikawa, I’ll make you like me.”_

_“You can never hear anyone out, Oikawa. It’s always just what you think, just what you want to hear. You’re so selfish in that way, you know?”_

_“Relax. It won’t hurt, I promise.”_

Oikawa sat up quickly, causing his head to spin. He flung off the too-constricting sheets, sweat soaking his skin. He was breathing heavily, struggling to catch his breath. Before he knew what was happening, he was choking on his inhales, and his exhales were shuddering through his throat, and then the sobs started once more. His entire body shook as the memories from the day before flooded his mind, even more vivid than they’d been before.

_“You don’t dislike it.”_

_“I’m sorry; I can’t go slowly from here.”_

_“I really do love you, Oikawa. You’re beautiful. Even when you’re in so much pain, there’s still a beauty to you.”_

Oikawa ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, as if it would force the images from his mind. The tears poured incessantly, and his sobs turned to small pitiful whimpers. Instinctively, he reached for his phone, finding Iwaizumi’s contact easily through blurred eyes. _But…what now?_ He hesitated suddenly, his body shaking, debating on whether to accept the comfort of his best friend or not.

With a heavy sob that contracted his entire body, Oikawa caved completely, hitting the call button and bringing the phone to his ear. Suddenly Oikawa found himself hoping that Iwaizumi wouldn’t answer, that it would go straight to voicemail as it always did when the spiker had his phone off during school. It rang once. Twice. Oikawa could feel the panicked breaths fluttering in his lungs. Three rings. Four rings. Fi—“Hello?”

For a moment Oikawa couldn’t even answer. His voice stuck in his throat, and he tried to hold the sobs back but that also seemed to make it impossible to speak. Iwaizumi’s voice was so unnaturally gentle, so soft and open, and it caused some strange unexplainable sort of physical pain in Oikawa’s chest. Just as Oikawa was working up the nerve to reply, Iwaizumi’s voice cracked on the other end: “Are you…are you ok?”

That question. _Why would you ask me that question, Iwa-chan?_ Oikawa lost it. His demeanor—though sketchy to begin with—crumbled completely, and he dissolved into tears once more. “I-Iwa-chan,” he choked out in between the heavy sobs that wracked his body. 

“Hey, hey,” Iwaizumi spoke hurriedly, in a hushed tone. “Don’t worry, ok? You’re fine. You’re fine. I’m, uh…” there was a slight pause, and a flurry of background noises, before Iwaizumi’s voice came back. “I’m on my way, ok? I’ll be right there. You’re at home, right?”

“Y-Yeah,” Oikawa sniffed, drawing his knees to his face and hugging them tightly, trying to compress his body as if it would stop the uncontrollable shudders that ran through his limbs.

“I’m just one block away, it won’t take me long—hang on, ok? I’ll be right there. Got it? Oikawa? Stay on the line, Oikawa. Oikawa!” Oikawa couldn’t answer with words, nor could he control the way his breath shook through his lungs and the way his head spun with thoughts and images that he didn’t want to be thinking about. 

At one point the phone slipped from his now-cold fingers, bouncing off the bed and clattering to the floor. Oikawa couldn’t bring himself to care, only wrapping his arms tighter around his legs and sobbing into his knees. Breath was coming faster now, harder, tearing itself from his lungs just as soon as he could drag it in. The air was leaving his body faster than he could inhale it, and the dizziness from the lack of oxygen was making him light-headed and nauseous. 

“Why me,” he realized his own voice was repeating over and over again, the words streaming out of his mouth with every shaky exhale. “Why me, why, why, why me, why, why, why, why…” Suddenly the words stopped, and his breath was stuck in his throat. The panic built in his chest until he felt like he was about to explode. His head spun wildly, darkness creeping in on his vision and static ringing in his eardrums.

“Oikawa!” he heard, and suddenly he was able to suck in another inhale again. He looked up to see Iwaizumi standing in the doorway of the bedroom, panting, in his school uniform. The flash of guilt that momentarily blinked in Oikawa’s mind was just that—momentary—before his panic set in again. Iwaizumi hurried across the room, concern clear in his face but an awkwardness that showed that he really didn’t know what to do.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa choked out, loosening his arms from their grip around his legs to hold them out to his friend. Iwaizumi hesitated for a moment before leaning closer. His weight shifted the mattress a bit, and Oikawa tilted his body, reaching out to wrap his arms around Iwaizumi’s waist.

“Hey—whoa!” Iwaizumi gasped when Oikawa’s sudden lunge forward took both of them down onto the bed, the setter’s weight settling on top of the spiker. Oikawa buried his tear-streaked face in Iwaizumi’s torso, struggling to control the sobs, and he could feel his friend’s hands gently wind around his shoulders.

“Iwa,” he whimpered, melting to the comforting touch.

Iwaizumi hesitantly ran a hand across Oikawa’s head, smoothing down the messy brown hair. “Hey, it’s ok,” he spoke tentatively, softly, as if he was afraid of saying something wrong. “You’re ok, it’s ok…” He sighed, his breath ruffling Oikawa’s hair. “I was so worried, you know.” There was another pause, which Oikawa filled with his gradually quieting whimpers, then Iwaizumi said, “You can talk to me, you know. Whenever. I get it…the match, it was—”

“It’s not just the match,” Oikawa blurted out, his voice thick with tears. He took a shuddering breath, but the sobs had stopped and he could breathe normally now. He tightened his arms around Iwaizumi. _How did he calm me down so quickly…?_

Another brief silence stretched out between them. “What is it, then?” Iwaizumi asked softly, “Is it your knee? Mattsun told me it was bothering you the other—”

“That was a lie,” Oikawa nearly choked on the words, but he knew that he had to tell Iwaizumi at least—if no one else. He took a few more breaths to calm himself down, then lifted his head to meet Iwaizumi’s anxious gray gaze. “Iwa-chan,” he half-whispered, feeling his lip quiver, biting it to hold back the tears that threatened to fall once more.

“You can tell me anything,” Iwaizumi urged him, running his fingers comfortingly through Oikawa’s hair, his other arm still wrapped around the setter’s shoulders in a half-embrace.

Oikawa buried his face in Iwaizumi’s shirtfront again, wondering how much more humiliation he could deal with. _But I’ve already been through the worst, so…_ “Iwa-chan,” he mumbled into his friend’s shirt, “I…I have to…” he hesitated.

“It’s ok,” Iwaizumi murmured, rubbing small circles into Oikawa’s back with his hand. “It’s ok, Oikawa.”

Oikawa took a deep, shuddering breath. Then he said with a small whimper, “Ushiwaka raped me.”

He could feel Iwaizumi’s entire body go rigid, and could hear the sudden breath of shock and disbelief that the spiker sucked in. “Wh-What?” Iwaizumi gasped, his embrace tightening on Oikawa’s shoulder, “Are you…oh, my God, Oikawa…” he breathed, and Oikawa wanted to cry but he couldn’t anymore. Instead, the setter leaned into his friend’s body, listening to the choked-out phrases of the spiker. “I’m so sorry…You should’ve said something…Oh, my God…I’m so sorry, Oikawa…I’m so, so sorry…”

Oikawa wasn’t quite sure what Iwaizumi was apologizing for, but he didn’t have the energy left to question anything anymore. He lifted his head, meeting his friend’s now-teary eyes with his own surprisingly dry ones, watching the way the tears reflected the beautiful silvery-gray of Iwaizumi’s gaze. “Don’t apologize,” Oikawa mumbled, his own eyelids drooping with the exhaustion of all the emotion that had been attacking him.

“Oikawa…” Iwaizumi whispered, a single tear escaping his eye and sliding down his cheek. “I’m so, so… _so_ sorry.”

All Oikawa could do was hold tightly onto Iwaizumi as his head spun and ached from the amount of crying he’d done. The exhaustion overtook him, washing over his body and weighing all his limbs with lead. “Not your fault,” he sighed against Iwaizumi’s chest, just before his consciousness drifted away, lost within the thick black veil that was sleep.

At least he finally got a dreamless rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure when the next chapter will be out, since I haven't started it yet and I'll be travelling over the next week, so...
> 
> Happy holidays, guys! Thanks for reading so far!


	4. Iwaizumi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey omg I'm not dead, so here's a short and shitty chapter to say I didn't forget about this story, I'm just still trying to figure out what my plot is and also I'm really lazy and I've been without inspiration for a few weeks lol
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

Oikawa woke groggily, his head pounding and his eyes aching. _When was the last time I cried this hard?_ He frowned, blinking his eyes open slowly. Soft light flooded his vision, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. When they did, the hazy outline of Iwaizumi came into view—the spiker was looking at Oikawa, his brow creased slightly with concern. Oikawa shifted slightly on the bed, blinking up at Iwaizumi, who in turn softened his own gray gaze as he met Oikawa’s.

“What,” Oikawa mumbled sleepily, blinking to bring Iwaizumi’s face into sharper focus. Iwaizumi was laying on the bed beside Oikawa, though he was on top of the sheets as opposed to under, like Oikawa.

“Nothing,” Iwaizumi said, his voice soft though slightly gravelly. Oikawa closed his eyes again as Iwaizumi kept talking, listening to the quiet rasp of the spiker’s words. “I’m just worried. And angry, if I’m being honest. I can’t believe he would do that to you.”

Oikawa sighed, feeling a residual pain spark up in his hips when he twisted his body to snuggle deeper under the warmth of the covers. He mumbled his next words half-into the pillow, “What time is it?” Oikawa didn’t really care about the time, if he was being completely honest, but he wanted to change the subject; he wasn’t ready to talk that deeply about it quite yet. 

“Five o’clock, p.m.,” Iwaizumi answered, clearing his throat. “You should eat something.” His words had lost their huskiness, and Oikawa was slightly surprised to find that he missed the sleepy-sounding edge to the spiker’s voice.

“You…” Oikawa turned to look into Iwaizumi’s eyes, which glowed with a soft light from the dim sun that filtered through the shades over the windows. “You stayed here all day?”

“Well.” The spiker shifted on the mattress, and Oikawa noticed that he’d changed out of his school uniform and into a pair of Oikawa’s sweatpants and one of his T-shirts. _He really did stay with me all day…_ Somehow the thought made Oikawa feel warm and happy inside, and a small hand squeezed his heart. When Iwaizumi started talking again, Oikawa started when he realized he’d gotten a little lost in his own emotions and had zoned out for a bit. “I wasn’t just going to leave you alone,” Iwaizumi was saying, “Not after what you went through. I just wish..." his voice trailed off, and he shook his head with a sigh, abandoning the thought. “We’re best friends, Oikawa; I just want to help you. You shouldn’t be alone.”

Oikawa felt a smile, wide and genuine, curl at his lips. “Iwa-chan,” he half-laughed, his voice hiccupping in his throat, which was unexpectedly thick with emotion. “So nice, it’s unlike you.” 

Iwaizumi gave a mock-frown, grumbling, “Are you saying I’m not nice?”

“No,” Oikawa sighed, reaching out to wrap his fingers around Iwaizumi’s wrist. The spiker started slightly, moving as if to pull away, then quickly corrected himself and submitted to Oikawa’s tight hold. Oikawa couldn’t help the soft laugh that bubbled up in his chest. “Thank you, Iwa-chan,” he murmured, noticing too late the dangerous amount of real feeling in his own words. Once he heard his own thick voice speak those syllables, he could feel the heat of tears pricking behind his eyes.

“Don’t cry,” Iwaizumi said, hurriedly yet gently, a slight edge of panic to his voice. “I’m supposed to take care of you, remember?” In the small moment of silence that followed, Iwaizumi gave a soft, genuine, heart-melting smile. "After all, what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?”

  


* * *

  


Iwaizumi ran his fingers through Oikawa’s hair gently, as the setter’s breathing deepened and he fell asleep once more. Iwaizumi felt a soft smile flit across his face as he watched the worry and fear slowly disappear from Oikawa’s face as he sank deeper into sleep. _What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?_ Iwaizumi’s own words echoed in his ears.

He let out a sigh, his hand stilling its repetitive petting motion, his fingers tangling themselves into Oikawa’s soft brown curls. He’s been able to rouse the setter from bed a few hours earlier; he’d also been able to get Oikawa to eat a bit, though the taller brunet hadn’t seemed too keen on food. _I really hope he’s ok,_ Iwaizumi found himself thinking, his heart aching when he looked at his captain’s relaxed, sleeping face.

“This is too goddamn domestic,” Iwaizumi half-sighed aloud, barely muttering the words under his breath. He stared at Oikawa, his eyes flitting over the setter’s face, taking in all the details. His eyes traced out the fall of light brown hair against Oikawa’s forehead, and the gentle rise of his brows. He then slid his gaze down to the gentle curve of lashes, thick and dark against the pale skin of Oikawa’s cheek. From there, Iwaizumi’s eyes travelled down Oikawa’s nose, then stilled on the volleyball captain’s pink, incredibly soft-looking lips.

_What am I doing,_ Iwaizumi groaned to himself, using the free hand that wasn’t on Oikawa’s head to rub at his own eyes. _He just went through something horrible, and yet all I can think about still is just…_ He sighed, grinding the heel of his hand into his eye until yellow spots danced across his vision. _I need to pull myself together. For him. He needs me._

Iwaizumi wasn’t sure when he’d really noticed his own feelings for the setter. It must have been years ago, during their childhood, that Iwaizumi’s care and friendship had evolved into something...more. Something forbidden. Something that he couldn’t talk about, couldn’t think about. And yet he did think about it, every time he looked at Oikawa. Every time he saw that smile, that genuine smile that seemingly only ever appeared when they were alone together. 

Iwaizumi slid his hand through Oikawa’s fluffy hair one last time, using his thumb to stroke across the soft skin of Oikawa’s cheek when he pulled his hand away at last. _I guess I should set up the futon,_ Iwaizumi mused, glancing up reluctantly to the closet across the room that held the smaller mattress. _But…_ He looked back down at Oikawa’s sleeping face. _I suppose just one more night by his side won’t hurt. He needs me. It’s a comfort to have someone close._

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. But he knew it was dangerous, what he was doing. _If I get too caught up in my feelings,_ he sighed as he lifted himself onto the bed, beside Oikawa, _and I fuck up this friendship, or hurt him in any way…especially now, after all that he's been through..._ He stared at Oikawa, their faces inches away now―dangerously close, yes, but still never close enough. _If I ever rob him of his best friend, the only person he ever talks to truthfully...then I won't be able to forgive myself._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Review! Also request stuff to happen next 'cause I honestly have no idea where I want to go with this, I just knew I wanted to have some stuff from Iwa's perspective


	5. Phone Calls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay I finished another chapter

“I don’t have it, but I’ll ask around for you. Not sure why you’d want it, though...Mattsun might know something, I’ll have him call you.”

“Hey, Makki told me to call you, but I don’t have it. If I were you, I’d try that Kuroo guy from Nekoma; he seemed pretty popular, he might know more people. I’ll text you his number.”

“I don’t have it, but let me ask Kenma. He might...oh, no, never mind, he’s saying no. Wait, my bro Bokuto probably knows something, he has a lot of phone numbers. I’ll put him on.”

“Hey, hey, Iwaizumi! I don’t have his number, sorry. It was weird, I could’ve sworn I’d collected every volleyball player’s cell numbers, but I must’ve missed him. I can give you all his team members’, though.”

“Satori Tendou speaking...oh, you want Wakatoshi-kun’s number? Why? Anyway, I don’t have it. Isn’t that weird?”

  


* * *

  


Iwaizumi sighed, tossing his phone onto Oikawa’s counter, where the screen slowly dimmed then turned off. He flicked his eyes towards the hallway where Oikawa’s room was; the setter was sleeping again. Iwaizumi frowned, forgetting about all the phone calls that had been in vain and turning back to focus on the eggs he was cooking. He didn’t know if Oikawa was actually sleeping or just lying in bed. It was beginning to worry him.

He picked up his phone again, turning it on to read the time. _7:30…_ he mused, _When is Oikawa going to get up?_ Just as the thought occurred, Iwaizumi heard a shuffling in the hallway. He quickly flipped the two now-cooked omelettes onto plates and turned the stove off, turning to see Oikawa leaning against the kitchen doorway. The taller brunet’s clothes and hair were rumpled and messy, and there was a tired haze over his chocolate brown eyes.

“What are…” Oikawa yawned in the middle of his sentence, blinking sleepily as he finished, “...you doing?”

Iwaizumi held up a plate in response, before setting it down at the table. “Making you food. Did you sleep ok?”

Oikawa was staring at the omelette with a slightly confused expression, tilting his head and running his fingers through his hair a few times. Iwaizumi found himself focusing on the downward curve of Oikawa’s lips, before they twitched into a half-smile. “Yeah, I guess I did,” Oikawa eventually murmured, his voice quiet. “Are you...going to school today? What time is it?”

“Seven-thirty,” Iwaizumi replied, sitting at the table and carefully watching the way Oikawa winced as he seated himself as well. “I...don’t have to go, if―”

“No, go,” Oikawa interrupted. “I don’t want you to...to not go because of me. You’ve already missed morning practice.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Iwaizumi began, but Oikawa shook his head.

“It does,” Oikawa said softly, staring down at the omelette. “It does matter, Iwa-chan.” He glanced up, catching Iwaizumi’s gaze with his warm brown eyes. “I want you to go.”

Iwaizumi was silent for a moment. “Ok,” he said, “I’ll go.”

Oikawa smiled, but the expression made Iwaizumi inwardly wince. It was that fake, overly-practiced smile, not the relaxed, genuine smile that Oikawa usually wore around Iwaizumi. “You’d better hurry,” Oikawa said, still with that plastic smile, “You don’t have very long until school starts.”

“Ok,” Iwaizumi sighed, pushing himself back from the table, forgotten breakfast growing colder on its plate. “I’ll go get dressed. Take care of yourself today, ok? I’ll get all the notes you need from your classes. Just…” Iwaizumi hesitated before the kitchen doorway, turning back to see Oikawa sitting in front of his own equally untouched food. Iwaizumi let out a breath, “Just eat something, ok?”

“Ok, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa grinned, that strange cloudy sleepy look still in his eyes. Iwaizumi only hesitated a moment longer before rushing down the hallway to get ready. _There’s only so much I can do for him, anyway…_

  


* * *

  


Oikawa watched Iwaizumi exit the kitchen, then slumped against his seat and let his face collapse. _It’s so hard to fake it around him...Why is it so hard to fake it around him?_ He stared at the delicious-looking omelette on his plate, but his stomach gave a warning clench that told Oikawa anything he ate would be rejected almost immediately. He sighed, dropping his head down onto his arms. _I’m so tired,_ he inwardly moaned, even though he’d spent the past day-and-a-half in bed.

He picked his head up again when he heard Iwaizumi walking down the hallway again. “Take care of yourself!” the spiker called out as he passed the kitchen. “Don’t forget to eat!”

“I won’t, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa called back, listening to Iwaizumi’s last mumbled goodbye before the front door opened and closed. There was a moment of tense silence, and a heavy atmosphere seemed to settle over the room. Oikawa let out a breath, letting his head drop to his arms again. There was a loud _clack!_ as his elbow knocked his plate up from the table. He jumped, then groaned and leaned away from the table, stretching.

Suddenly Oikawa heard his cell phone ringing from his bedroom. He stared at the ceiling. _Probably just someone wondering why I wasn’t at morning practice...ah, well, Iwa-chan will just tell them I’m sick or something._ He frowned a little as he thought. _I really do feel bad that he had to stay home with me yesterday...I hope he didn’t miss much at school._

Oikawa tapped his finger against the top of the table as he listened to his phone stop ringing, only to ping with a text message. “Iwa-chan will sort it out,” he muttered to himself, leaning back on the chair. He eventually stood up, making his way to the living room, where he located the TV remote and eased himself down on the couch. He wasn’t really in pain anymore, but he still felt as fragile as glass. _I should probably get some tests or something...isn’t that what people in these situations usually do?_ Oikawa sighed, shaking his head. _Stop thinking about it, stop thinking about it…_ He turned on the TV, browsing Netflix for something to watch.

 _I should probably be doing something more productive,_ he found himself thinking, but he couldn’t gather the energy to lift himself from the couch again. _Oh, well. I’ll allow myself a few days to wallow in my own pathetic-ness._ He heard his phone ring again in the other room, and ignored it with another sigh. “Stop calling me,” he moaned, turning up the volume on the TV. The ringing faded into a background noise, and Oikawa focused on the screen in front of him with another long exhale. _This is going to be a long day._

  


* * *

  


“Hey Iwaizumi, where’s Oikawa?” Hanamaki asked Iwaizumi after practice, in the locker room. The rest of the team quieted slightly, and Iwaizumi knew they were all wondering how their captain was doing.

“He’s home sick,” Iwaizumi said shortly, then realized that that wasn’t a sufficient answer. “He wasn’t feeling very well yesterday either,” he elaborated, “I had to stay home with him.”

“That bad, huh?” Hanamaki rose his eyebrows, looking faintly surprised. “Is he ok?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Iwaizumi waved a hand dismissively. “He just...needs some time, that’s all. He’ll be fine.”

Hanamaki nodded. “Well,” he said with a strained and worried grin, glancing around the otherwise-silent locker room. “Tell him the team wishes him well, alright?” The rest of the team chorused their agreement, and Iwaizumi gave them what he hoped passed for a genuine smile.

“Thanks,” Iwaizumi said, quickly correcting the subconsciously terse tone in his voice with his next words, “I’m sure he’ll really appreciate it.”

“Well, I’m going to get going,” Matsukawa said, giving a wave, “Makki, I’m going to walk home on my own tonight, I’ve got a lot of homework.”

“Ok, see you tomorrow,” Hanamaki responded, and the third-year walked out of the locker room. One after the other, the younger volleyball players systematically finished packing and left, saying their goodbyes and giving those fake smiles that Iwaizumi was sick of seeing, even though he knew he mirrored them. Eventually, it was just Iwaizumi and Hanamaki. The other third-year turned to the wing spiker, asking in a soft voice, “Is Oikawa really ok?”

Iwaizumi hesitated for a moment, debating how much he should say. _I’m sure Oikawa would want Makki to know...and I really don’t want to have to lie here...but it isn’t my place to say anything. Should I hint at something more, that Oikawa will explain later? Or would that be betraying his trust? He didn’t say anything about telling or not telling anyone…_ “He’s going to be fine,” Iwaizumi eventually said. _It’s not my place to betray his trust,_ he decided.

Hanamaki gave him an I-don’t-believe-you-but-for-both-our-sakes-I-won’t-say-anything look, then nodded. “Ok,” he murmured, picking up his bag. “Just tell him that...it was a hard loss for all of us. And...let him know that we’re all here for him, and we miss him.” He gave a little laugh, though it sounded more sad than anything. “Today’s practice was strange without him. And in the morning, even you weren’t here. I had to lead. It was weird.” He laughed again, and Iwaizumi nodded along. Hanamaki’s face fell into a serious expression again, and he added, “Just tell him that for me, ok?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi said, his voice coming out a little hoarse. He cleared his throat. “I’m sure he’ll be fine soon. Thank you, really.”

Hanamaki gave a tight smile, adjusting his bag’s strap on his shoulder. “Maybe I’ll visit him with Mattsun this weekend. We could just hang out. I’m sure it’ll make him feel better.” Iwaizumi nodded, and Hanamaki sighed. “Well, I better get going. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye,” Iwaizumi responded automatically, watching Hanamaki leave the locker room, the door shutting behind him. Iwaizumi leaned his head back, closing his eyes against the harsh lights on the ceiling while he relaxed in the silence. He let out a sigh, his shoulders pressing against the cool metal of the lockers. His thoughts ran back to Oikawa’s house, where he could imagine the tall setter lying in bed, having eaten nothing all day or even taken a shower. _He honestly can’t do anything on his own,_ Iwaizumi thought fondly, his memories going back to their childhood days spent together. 

He shook his head, quickly pulling himself from his mind. “Yeah, he can’t do anything on his own,” he muttered to himself, “so I need to help him, what the hell am I sitting here for?” Sighing, Iwaizumi picked up his bag and made his way out of the locker room, headed home to his best friend.  


* * *

  
Oikawa stared blankly at the brightness of the TV screen, his eyes burning yet unable to close. He yawned once, twice. He paused the TV and tried to sleep, but sleep wouldn’t come. He pressed play on the remote again, his vision wavering in and out of focus. There was a dizziness hiding in the back of his mind, and it came forward with a roar every time he lifted his head. He lay across the couch, tired eyes blank and foggy. 

_What a lovely image of a team captain._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also yay for me, I finally decided to put in real page breaks instead of just skipping lines. Doesn't it look so much nicer now?? (I get really excited over things like this idk)


	6. How To Fall Asleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everyone's suggestions!

Iwaizumi walked in the door to the sound of a phone ringing. 

Recognizing the ringtone to Oikawa’s cell phone, Iwaizumi frowned slightly as he set his bag down beside the door and toed off his shoes, wondering briefly why the setter wasn’t answering before realizing that Oikawa could hardly be in the mood to talk to anyone else at the moment. “Oikawa?” he called out, suddenly feeling more awkward than he should walking into his best friend’s house.

“Yeah,” he heard Oikawa answer from the living room, voice uncharacteristically hoarse and emotionless. Worry edging at his mind, Iwaizumi passed the kitchen and entered the living room to see the muted TV glowing softly with one of those alien documentaries that Oikawa liked so much. Iwaizumi circled the back of the couch, seeing Oikawa sitting up on the cushions, brown hair in all directions around a worryingly pale face.

“You need to sleep,” Iwaizumi said immediately, holding out a hand for the setter to take. “Come on―you’re going to bed. I’ll make dinner and wake you when it’s ready.”

“Can’t sleep,” Oikawa mumbled, but he was already reaching out to take Iwaizumi’s hand with his own shockingly cold one. “Already tried.”

“Well, you’re going to try again,” Iwaizumi said shortly, pulling Oikawa to his feet, which he wavered on. For a moment Iwaizumi was afraid the setter was going to fall back onto the couch again, but the taller brunet regained his balance and stood still, though he still leaned heavily on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. The spiker hissed, “Seriously, did you even eat anything today?”

“I tried,” was Oikawa’s only response, and Iwaizumi gave up on trying to berate the half-asleep captain. Instead, he focused on helping Oikawa down the hall to his bedroom. It was slow going, and Oikawa stumbled every other step. Iwaizumi heard Oikawa’s phone pinging with text message notifications from the hallway, and sighed. _I told the team he was sick...who else would be calling him?_ Eventually they reached the bedroom, and Iwaizumi half-shoved Oikawa onto the bed. 

“Sleep,” Iwaizumi said, and Oikawa’s eyes fluttered closed.

“Too tired,” the setter mumbled.

“Then _sleep_ ,” Iwaizumi repeated.

Oikawa snuggled into the mattress, and Iwaizumi reached across him to pull the sheets over his body. “Mmkay,” Oikawa replied, his voice muffled against the pillow. “G’night, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi tore his gaze away from Oikawa, quickly grabbing the setter’s cell phone off the nightstand before he left. _Now that won’t wake him_ , Iwaizumi thought as he turned the ringer off and quietly left the room, easing the door shut and moving into the kitchen to prepare dinner. Even as he was looking down at the phone, the screen lit up with another call. Iwaizumi took one look at the caller ID and the phone slipped from his hands, slapping against the ground with a harsh _crack!_

“Ah, shit,” Iwaizumi breathed, hurriedly picking up the phone to see that it was, fortunately, uncracked. He stared at the caller ID. _Why the fuck…?_ Iwaizumi gaped at the screen. _Ushijima??_ Fingers numb, Iwaizumi answered the call, bringing the phone to his ear with shaking hands. “What do you want,” he asked hoarsely, his voice thick with barely-veiled anger.

“Iwaizumi,” Ushijima’s familiar voice said on the other end of the line. “Is Oikawa there?”

Iwaizumi was silent for a moment, struggling to contain the intense rage that was boiling up in his chest. Slowly, he pulled the phone away from his face, ending the call and just barely resisting the urge to hurl the phone at the wall. He made his way to the kitchen on trembling legs, setting the phone on the counter face down, so that he wouldn’t have to see any other incoming calls from the other captain if they ever came.

He glared at the phone for a few moments, softly hissing, “Fuck you,” to the person he’d already hung up on. The amount of hatred in his own voice shocked him, and he took a deep breath, rubbing his temples with shaking fingers. _What the hell does he want, why can’t he just leave Tooru alone…_

“Wait. Fuck.” Iwaizumi stared blankly at the floor. “Did I just…?” _Yes, you did,_ his mind answered gleefully, _You called Oikawa ‘Tooru’!_ Iwaizumi groaned, rubbing his face with his hands as if it would rub the thoughts from his mind. _Stop, stop,_ he begged himself, _just stop already._

Iwaizumi half-fell towards the kitchen table, his legs rubber underneath him, barely catching himself on the edge of the table before heavily seating himself in one of the chairs. “I’m so fucked,” he moaned, putting his face in his hands. “I’m so fucked.” He crossed his arms across the table, leaning his head down atop them, taking deep breaths. “I’m so damn fucked.” Any previous thoughts he had about making dinner were swept away, and it was all he could do to sit there in silence. He was almost afraid that if he moved, he would trigger himself into an uncontrollable rage. Between his own impossible-to-requit feelings for his best friend, and the phone call from Ushijima, Iwaizumi felt like everything was just falling down around him.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, head on his arms, just trying to calm his breathing. He came to again when he heard a soft tapping on the front door, glancing around blearily, unable to remember ever falling asleep. “What…?” he mumbled to himself, running a hand through his hair as he staggered to his feet and stretched, his shoulders aching from the awkward position they’d been in. “Who the fu…?” he yawned in the middle of his sentence, feeling the heavy exhaustion weighing on him.

Shaking it off, Iwaizumi walked through the house to the front door, the lateness of the hour barely registering in his mind as he swung the door open and came face to face with none other than Wakatoshi Ushijima.

Iwaizumi stared for a moment, his brain struggling to catch up to his eyes. He blinked once, twice. _He’s...still there,_ he thought numbly, as if he was expecting a mirage that would disappear as soon as he closed his eyes. “What the fuck are you doing here,” Iwaizumi asked, his voice surprisingly monotone.

Ushijima opened his mouth to talk. He never got the chance.

Iwaizumi’s brain finally registering that yes, this was Ushijima in front of him and yes, this was the man who raped Oikawa, and Iwaizumi found himself moving automatically. He could feel his right arm pull itself back, could feel his left foot stepping forward, could feel his left arm reach out and the fingers of his left hand grabbing a fistful of Ushijima’s shirtfront. He could feel his own body twisting at the hip, driving the momentum of the movement up through his shoulder and his elbow as he straightened his right arm. He could feel his fist slamming into the hard bone of Ushijima’s jaw with a satisfyingly painful _crack!_ He could feel his left hand letting go of Ushijima’s shirt as his right hand made impact, allowing the team captain to stumble back from the force of the hit.

It was as if the single action had broken a dam in Iwaizumi that had been previously holding back all his emotions. Filled now with rage and frustration at his best friend’s situation, and his own situation, and the overall unfairness of the world, Iwaizumi did the only thing a person in his situation really could do, with the cause of most of his problems knocked on the ground right in front of him.

He snapped.

  


* * *

  


Oikawa slept fitfully, asleep for one moment and awake the next, often caught in that strange space between sleep and wakefulness. It was one of the most bizarre things he’d ever experienced. He was tired, too exhausted to do anything, almost asleep on his feet whenever he attempted to stand. Yet when he closed his eyes, his mind refused to grant him sleep. Images of Ushiwaka were tattooed on the insides of his eyelids, and for every five minutes he could catch a little sleep, he was jolted awake washed in a cold sweat from some terrible nightmare about the other team captain.

After one such incident, Oikawa sat up in bed, breathing hard, sweat cold and sticky on his face and across his chest and back. He pulled the damp shirt over his head, struggling to slow his breathing as he tossed the T-shirt aside and glanced over at the clock on his nightstand. The numbers split off into doubles, then triples, then back to doubles. They swam in front of his eyes, blurring together. He shut his eyes before he could get nauseous, raking his sweaty hair back with his fingers and putting his head in his hands, rubbing forcefully at his temples.

“What’s wrong with me,” he moaned to himself.

  


* * *

  


_Crack! Crack! Crack!_

Every swing of his arm was met with a satisfying meaty resistance. Iwaizumi could feel the hard press of the ground against his knees, which were on either side of Ushijima’s mostly-limp body.

_Crack! Crack! Crack!_

He could feel his mind coming back to him after a while, shouting from far away to calm down, to back away, to think about what he was doing. After a while, he finally decided to listen to it.

Iwaizumi untangled the fingers of his left hand from Ushijima’s now-stretched shirtfront, letting the other brunet slump against the ground. He stood up, stepping over Ushijima and turning away as the captain struggled to sit up, panting through bloody lips. Ushijima spoke, his voice raspy and thick with pain, “Will you let me talk to Oikawa now?”

Iwaizumi clenched his fist, feeling the torn skin over his knuckles scream with pain from the motion. “Get out of here,” he growled, his voice quiet yet so full of rage. “Just...leave.” Without waiting for an answer, Iwaizumi opened the front door to Oikawa’s house, closing and locking it behind him. He leaned against it, panting. _1...2...3...4…_ he counted slowly as he inhaled, _5...6...7...8…_ he continued with his exhale, repeating until his breathing had calmed slightly. _He better have left by now._

“Iwa-chan?” 

Iwaizumi glanced up to see Oikawa leaning out of his bedroom doorway, a confused look on that too-pale, too-drawn face. “You’re supposed to be asleep,” he said dumbly, as if Oikawa was a child.

Obviously Oikawa caught the mothering tone in Iwaizumi’s voice, because his lips twisted downwards into a frown that looked too ugly on his already-exhausted and unhappy face. “I can’t,” he sighed in response, rubbing his eyes, and Iwaizumi noticed the setter had removed his shirt. It wasn’t something that should have mattered, not something he should have noticed, yet he did notice, and he hated himself for it. “Iwa-chan,” Oikawa murmured sleepily, his syllables slurring together with tiredness, “Come sleep with me.”

Iwaizumi instantly felt the heat of longing spring up in his chest, squeezing his heart. “Ok,” he automatically responded, his voice rougher than he meant it to be. As he was staring at Oikawa, he noticed the other brunet frowning at him. Iwaizumi cleared his throat before asking, “What?”

Oikawa bit at his own lip, and Iwaizumi hated the way his gaze was immediately drawn to the setter’s mouth at the action. “Are…” Oikawa started, then restarted, “Are you ok?”

Iwaizumi tried to smile, but he was pretty sure it came out more like a grimace than anything else. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

Oikawa stared at Iwaizumi for a moment in silence, a thoughtful, distracted look in his eyes. “You seem…” he hesitated for a moment before finishing, “...different.” At Iwaizumi’s silent response, Oikawa waved a hand and laughed. His laugh sounded like broken glass grating in his throat. “It’s just that...I don’t know. You seem, um...more relaxed somehow? Or at least, you _did,_ until you saw me.” Oikawa glanced down, and Iwaizumi caught a sheen of guilt in his brown eyes. “Then you...tensed up again.”

“It’s not you,” Iwaizumi immediately said, feeling the adrenaline fade away and leave a painful burn on his knuckles in its wake. “Let’s...let’s just get you to bed, ok? We can talk in the morning, but right now you look like you haven’t slept in days.” It was true; the pallidness of Oikawa’s skin and the darkness of the bags under his eyes were much too pronounced, especially given it had only been a couple of days since the incident. Iwaizumi knew, more than anyone else, the trouble Oikawa always had sleeping, especially before a match. But this was getting bad.

The light from the kitchen bled into the darker hallway, reflecting on the unshed tears in Oikawa’s eyes. Iwaizumi instantly felt the guilt tear into him, but he knew that telling Oikawa that Ushijima had been calling him all day and had shown up at his house...well, it wouldn’t exactly be good for Oikawa’s mental state, broken as it already was. Iwaizumi sighed, walking across the hallway to Oikawa. Closer now, he could see how badly the brunet was trembling. 

Iwaizumi put a comforting hand on Oikawa’s shoulder and was opening his mouth to tell the setter to go to bed when Oikawa’s eyes stretched wide with shock, his head turning to follow the movement of Iwaizumi’s arm.

“Iwa-chan, what happened to your hand?”


	7. When it Feels Like a Punch in the Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a super short one but I've had this half-written for a while now and I haven't had the inspiration to finish it properly so have this little thing while I try and figure out where I'm going with this plot lol

“My...hand?” 

Oikawa would have rolled his eyes if he wasn’t so nervous, but his heart beating in his throat as he wrapped his fingers around Iwaizumi’s now-cold ones, pulling the spiker’s hand from his shoulder and bringing it closer to his own face for inspection. The skin over the knuckles was bloody and torn, and for a moment Oikawa couldn’t breathe. “Iwa-chan,” he finally gasped out, trying to think of what could have caused the extensive injuries. “What happened?”

Iwaizumi squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, taking a breath and letting it out slowly. Oikawa shifted his feet anxiously, his mind racing with possibilities and confusion. Finally the ace’s gray eyes opened again and met Oikawa’s gaze. Iwaizumi said with a sigh, “Ushijima showed up. I punched him.”

Oikawa felt for a moment as if he was the one who’d gotten punched. It almost felt as if Iwaizumi’s words had literally slapped him across the face.; he didn’t know what to think. His mind was screaming something, but he couldn’t hear the words. He wasn’t even sure if there were any words to hear. “Wha…?” he gaped, unable to think of any other way to respond.

Iwaizumi let out another deep breath, his eyes flicking away from Oikawa’s face as he mumbled, “I didn’t want to tell you...that Ushijima was here…” Oikawa had to strain to hear the words, as Iwaizumi’s voice kept getting lower, “...or that I lost my composure over it, and…” Iwaizumi trailed off, flexing the injured hand that was still in Oikawa’s grasp.

Oikawa couldn’t take his eyes off of the torn skin. “You punched Ushiwaka...why?” 

“I just…” Iwaizumi hesitated, then said in one breath, “I didn’t like him coming to your house or calling you or having anything to do with you after what he’d already done.”

“Calling me?” Oikawa echoed, then he remembered the numerous calls he’d been getting throughout the day. “That was _him?_ ” For a moment he felt sick, his stomach clenching in anxiety.

“That’s why I didn’t want to tell you,” Iwaizumi murmured, now meeting Oikawa’s eyes. “Because of that look. I don’t want you to be afraid.” He pulled his hand from Oikawa’s, lifting it to show the bloodied knuckles. “See?” he said, a half-smile on his face, “I can protect you.”

Oikawa leaned forward, wordlessly embracing Iwaizumi. The spiker staggered a bit before hesitantly returning the hug, and Oikawa leaned into the shorter brunet, bending his neck to hide his face in Iwaizumi’s shoulder as he felt tears start to pool in his eyes. He wasn’t sure why he was crying; it could’ve been from the fear of Ushiwaka coming again, or from the happiness that Iwaizumi had protected him and would always protect him. It could’ve been from the sadness that had been balled up inside of him for the past few days. It could have been anything, really.

“You ok?” Iwaizumi asked softly after a bit, his breath warm against Oikawa’s neck.

Oikawa sniffed, and gave a shaky laugh. “Are _you_ ok?” he asked, “You’re the one who got hurt.”

Iwaizumi laughed back, his next words teasing but in a gentle way, “Well, _you’re_ the one who’s crying.”

Oikawa pulled away from the hug, wiping at his eyes. “Sorry,” he mumbled, “I don’t know why.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Iwaizumi said.

Oikawa reached out to take his hand again, curling his own fingers around Iwaizumi’s. “Are you sure you’re ok?” Oikawa asked, glancing up at Iwaizumi’s face, which bore no trace of pain. “We should get this cleaned up, anyway. Come on.” 

Ignoring Iwaizumi’s softly grumbled complaints, Oikawa led the spiker to the bathroom. He kept a loose hold on Iwaizumi’s fingers, unwilling to let go of his hand despite his underlying fear of irritating the injured knuckles any further.

“It’s fine,” he heard Iwaizumi mumble. Oikawa didn’t turn to look, only tightening his hold on his Iwaizumi’s fingers as his mind raced with fear both for himself and for his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still trying to figure out this plot. Hit me with some ideas: what do you want to happen, what conflicts do you want to arise, what situations do you want to see? I'm a little lost in my own sauce here
> 
> Thanks for reading so far, please review!


	8. Sleepy Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...yeah, it's been a month...
> 
> I have no good excuse, I honestly just didn't feel like writing sad and/or angsty stuff lol (sorry) so I did try to make this chapter slightly fluffier, idk how that turned out but...well, read on if you want to find out ^_^

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa mumbled, tiredness pulling his eyelids down. He had cleaned and bandaged the spiker’s knuckles, and was looking forward to getting some sleep―well, yes, he’d had the past few days to sleep, but he just couldn’t fall asleep without his friend’s calming presence beside him. Now he was trying to convince the ace to sleep next to him, but Iwaizumi kept hesitating. “Iwa-chan, come _on,_ ” Oikawa whined, pulling the covers back from the side of the bed where his friend was standing.

“But I―” Iwaizumi began, but Oikawa interrupted him.

“Iwa- _chan,_ ” he groaned, raking a hand through his hair. _“Please.”_ Oikawa looked up to meet Iwaizumi’s slightly shocked gaze. “I…” Oikawa swallowed. “I need you.”

With a sigh, Iwaizumi finally slid into the bed beside Oikawa. “Happy?” the spiker grumbled.

Oikawa only let out a confused breath. “Why are you acting so weird?” he asked softly, gaze fixed on the sheets between them, “You were fine with helping me fall asleep before. Is it...I mean, I know I should be getting better by now, but I thought that you of all people would still stay with―”

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi interrupted sharply, startling the setter. Oikawa flicked his gaze up to meet his friend’s gray gaze as he continued, “It’s not that, not at all. I will _always_ be here for you, Oikawa. When have I ever let you down, or even lied to you?” Oikawa stayed silent, unable to think of a single example. Iwaizumi went on, “It’s just that...Ushijima’s got me on edge. I’m...I’m scared for you, Oikawa. But not just because of him, but also...because of the way I reacted when I saw him. I just...I went overboard.” He paused to take a breath, then mumbled quietly, “I don’t want to lose control like that around you.”

“You won’t,” Oikawa answered immediately, “I know you won’t, because I trust you, Iwa-chan. You shouldn’t ever worry about something like that. And…” Oikawa glanced away again, remembering Iwaizumi’s voice saying, _You can talk to me, you know. Whenever. You can tell me anything._ “You can tell me anything, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi adjusted his body so that he was facing Oikawa. “I’m sorry,” he said, “for not telling you. I just...wanted to be someone for you to lean on, whenever you…” he paused, letting out a soft choked noise, then quickly said, “whenever you needed me.” Oikawa’s gaze was fixed on Iwaizumi’s, and he took in every change in expression on the ace’s face as he spoke. “I just didn’t want you to feel different around me, or be nervous around me, or―”

“Iwa- _chan,_ ” Oikawa groaned. “You’re my _best friend_ , why would I _ever_ feel uncomfortable around you in any way? Come on. You know how much I need you.” Oikawa noticed a quick flash of something―what was it?―in Iwaizumi’s eyes, but it was gone before he could figure out what it meant.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi sighed, turning onto his back. “Let’s just get some sleep, ok?” Then, as if it were an afterthought, he added, “Oh, and Makki and Mattsun want to visit this weekend.”

Oikawa felt his heart begin to race. “They―what?” he gasped out, “What am I supposed to tell them? What did you tell them? Iwa-chan, I don’t want anyone to know, only you, I can’t―”

“Calm down, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi cut him off, reaching across the bed to grab the setter’s trembling hand. Oikawa gladly accepted the touch, squeezing Iwaizumi’s hand as the spiker continued to speak in a hushed, calm tone, “All I told them was that you were sick, and that’s why I had to stay home with you the other day to take care of you. It’s going to be fine, it’s good for you to talk to more people. You don’t have to tell them, but just being around them is healthy, right, Tooru?” Suddenly Iwaizumi snapped his mouth shut, a mortified look on his face.

For a moment Oikawa didn’t realize why he had stopped talking. “Wait…” Oikawa blinked, feeling his brow furrowing as he peered at Iwaizumi’s expression. “Did you just call me…‘Tooru’?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Iwaizumi hastily backpedaled, indecipherable emotions flickering through his gray eyes, “I just―it was just that―”

“Don’t apologize,” Oikawa said with a soft smile, shifting closer to Iwaizumi, squeezing the spiker’s hand tighter. “I liked it,” he breathed out, a warm feeling in his chest just from hearing Iwaizumi call him by his given name. “Can you…” he hesitated, wondering if it was ok to ask this of his friend, then decided that no matter what he said, Iwaizumi would never judge him. “Can you call me that again?”

“I―I―” Iwaizumi stuttered, a light blush dusting his cheeks, “I guess I can...Tooru,” Iwaizumi mumbled, refusing to meet Oikawa’s gaze. Oikawa let out a little laugh, interlacing his fingers with Iwaizumi’s.

“It sounds nice when you say it,” Oikawa mused, then looked up at Iwaizumi with his best puppy-dog eyes until the spiker finally looked back at him. “Can you call me ‘Tooru’ from now on?” he pleaded, the hitch in Iwaizumi’s breath not going unnoticed by the taller brunet. With a ghost of a grin, Oikawa added, “It makes me feel so special.”

Iwaizumi grumbled a bit before reluctantly agreeing with a slightly annoyed, “Alright, _Tooru_ , now go to sleep already!”

Oikawa felt a laugh bubbling up in his throat. He slid closer to Iwaizumi, breathing out a soft, “Thank you,” feeling his stress melt away just from the single conversation. Iwaizumi just sighed back, and Oikawa squeezed his hand one more time under the covers before closing his eyes and letting himself finally drift to sleep.

  


* * *

  


Iwaizumi struggled to keep his breathing even, at least until the setter fell asleep. He could feel the heat on his own face throughout the entire conversation, and hoped to God it didn’t show in the semi-darkness of the room, which was lit only by the faint glow of moonlight that filtered through the window shades. He wondered if Oikawa had noticed the dry rasp of his voice whenever he’d said _‘Tooru’_ , and he wondered if this was a normal thing.

_Best friends don’t call each other by their given names...do they?_ Iwaizumi stared at Oikawa’s relaxed, sleeping face. _Is it possible...that Oikawa feels the same way about me that I feel about him?_ He cut off the thought immediately with a sharp shake of his head. _No, no, I can’t psyche myself out like that...he’s just being Oikawa, way too personal, way too oblivious. That’s just who he is._ Still, Iwaizumi couldn’t deny the emotions that coursed through him when Oikawa had asked, almost meekly, _‘Can you call me that again?’_

Iwaizumi could have punched himself for all the self-disgust he suddenly felt as the thoughts ran through his head. _What the hell am I thinking? What the hell is wrong with me?_ He clenched his fist, feeling the aching burn flash across his injured knuckles. _He needs a friend right now, he just went through this horrible thing and here I am, worrying about my own stupid feelings._

With a sigh, Iwaizumi pulled his hand from the setter’s now-limp hold and allowed himself one moment of relaxation, one moment of selfishness, one moment of weakness, to just look at Oikawa as he slept. The darkness masked the pallidness of the setter’s face, and the shadow of his eyelashes covered the bags beneath the closed eyes. His hair fell in soft waves across his forehead and cheek, and his breathing was deep and even and relaxed. 

Iwaizumi felt a smile twitch at his own lips as he thought, _What a lovely image of a team captain._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still trying to figure out where I'm going with this lol
> 
> Lemme know whatcha think!


	9. Come Back, I Need You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, another chapter done in record time! (I hope this makes up for the month-long wait for the last chapter lol) Also I tried to make this one a little longer, I'm not too good at long chapters ^_^

“Do you want me to stay with you today? Oikawa?” Iwaizumi sighed. “Oikawa, wake up.”

Oikawa blinked blearily up at Iwaizumi. “’M awake,” he mumbled, “Why are you calling me ‘Oikawa’ again?”

_Crap._ Iwaizumi had hoped that the setter had forgotten about that. It was killing him to act like this all the time, to live with and cook for and sleep beside Oikawa, and now call him by his given name, and yet know that none of it mattered to Oikawa in the same way it did for Iwaizumi. “Sorry...Tooru,” Iwaizumi muttered, hoping that if he ignored the heat on his face, the blush wouldn’t show. _But this closeness is what he needs,_ Iwaizumi reminded himself, _quit being so selfish, Hajime._

Oikawa had already rolled over in bed, facing away from Iwaizumi now. “I’m good now,” he said, Iwaizumi straining to hear his voice, which was muffled by the pillow. “You go to school, Iwa-chan. I can handle one more day before the weekend.”

Iwaizumi hesitated. “Are you sure?”

With a heavy groan, Oikawa turned back over to give the spiker a sleepy roll of his eyes. “Yes, Iwa-chan, I’m sure. I promise I’ll call you if I need anything, ok?”

“Ok,” Iwaizumi reluctantly agreed, feeling a twinge of worry as he turned to leave. He didn’t exactly trust Oikawa to take care of himself in his current state―which, well, Iwaizumi would only be lying to himself if he said that Oikawa’s mental state after what he’d been through wasn’t concerning Iwaizumi―but if Oikawa wanted to be alone... _Then who am I to tell him he can’t?_ Iwaizumi inwardly sighed.

“Wait, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa blurted out, the words quick and breathless. Iwaizumi immediately halted and turned back around, only to see the team captain’s gaze sliding to the side as he whispered, “Never mind. Just go, and...tell the team I said hi.”

Iwaizumi gave a hesitant nod and then, as much as it pained his heart to leave Oikawa home alone, he finally walked out the bedroom door for good.

  


* * *

  


Oikawa let out a long, pent-up breath as he watched Iwaizumi leave. He sat, still as stone in the bed, until he heard the front door open and close. “It’s just one lousy day,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. “I’m not a kid, I can spend one day alone.” _Though I would be lying to myself if I said I didn’t miss Iwa-chan when he’s not here,_ Oikawa thought, running a hand over his face.

He thought back to the night before, to the angry red cuts and bruises in Iwaizumi’s skin. “He really did do that for me,” Oikawa said with a dry, humorless laugh. “I hope I get to see Ushiwaka with the injuries Iwa-chan must’ve given him.” Suddenly he froze, picturing Ushiwaka’s face, staring down at him with that same dull, unregretful, unapologetic look in his stupid blank eyes. Oikawa heard a strange hissing noise, then realized it was his own breathing as he sucked the air through his teeth, fists gripping the sheets as he fought to get the image of the Shiratorizawa team captain out of his head.

“Think of something else,” Oikawa told himself, his own strained voice only making him more nervous. “Volleyball. Seijou. Iwa-chan. I’d even take Tobio-chan to get my mind off this.” He tried to breathe deeply, but Ushiwaka was still in his head, talking to him, moving closer, close enough to touch him, to― “No, no, nonono,” Oikawa moaned, “Anything, think of anything, _anything_ else!” The hysterical sob in his voice did nothing to calm his heartbeat, which felt like it was about to beat out of his chest. He could almost feel his ribcage vibrating with the intensity of each _thu-THUMP, thu-THUMP,_ shaking his insides.

Oikawa forced himself to open his eyes and stare at the ceiling above him. “No Ushiwaka there,” he managed to say in between his panicked breaths, attempting to reassure himself of the irrational fear, “No Ushiwaka here, no Ushiwaka near me…”

His phone rang.

A terrified sound left his throat, sounding something like a cross between a yelp and a hysterical laugh, and Oikawa snaked out an arm to grab his phone from his nightstand and hurl it at the wall. With an earsplitting _CRACK,_ the cell phone smacked into the wall and promptly fell onto the floor, landing in its own shards of broken screen. 

His phone rang.

“No, no, no,” Oikawa muttered to himself, shaking his head at the still-ringing phone. “No, no, you’re broken, you’re broken, you’re gone, you can’t hurt me, stop _ringing!_ ” he suddenly screamed, throwing his pillow at the ruined phone on the floor. He wasn’t sure if the pillow landed anywhere near the phone, because at the very second it left his hand, a wave of dizziness crashed into Oikawa’s head and he doubled over, retching.

His phone rang.

Oikawa choked on his own stomach acid, which shoved itself up his throat and spilled out onto the floor beside the bed. His shoulders heaved, his chest aching for air as he kept vomiting, the nausea refusing to let him out of its grip. Before long his stomach was empty, but the terrifying sense of vertigo was not yet gone and his entire body shook with dry heave after dry heave. Darkness swam in front of his eyes, and hot tears blurred what little vision he had around it.

His phone rang.

He shook, his entire body trembling violently, shudders running through him again and again. His chest fluttered with quick, shallow breaths that seemed to do nothing but aggravate his lungs. His throat tightened around every inhale, wheezing uncomfortably around the precious air. He heard a knock at the door. The terror coursing through his veins seemed to peak. Oikawa fought to draw in one more gulp of air as the dizziness increased and the darkness took over his vision. His fingers were strangely numb as his body convulsed in on itself, his mind finally going blank as his overloaded brain shut down. Oikawa fell against the bed, his consciousness gone and his heart racing.

  


* * *

  


Iwaizumi couldn’t shake the horrible feeling that had been lingering around him since he’d left Oikawa that morning. The feeling didn’t go away throughout the entire school day, and Iwaizumi sent a quick text to Oikawa just before volleyball practice, asking if he was ok. He was surprised when his phone buzzed back almost immediately, but his worry only increased when he read the text: _‘Sorry, the number you are trying to reach is currently out of service.’_

Iwaizumi glanced up to see Hanamaki looking at him, a curious expression on his face. “You look worried,” the strawberry-haired third-year remarked, then gestured towards Iwaizumi’s phone as he asked, “Everything ok?”

With a sigh, Iwaizumi showed Hanamaki the text he’d just received, responding with a strained, “I don’t know.” Hanamaki squinted at the screen, then shrugged.

“He probably just dropped his phone or something. I’m sure he’s fine.” Hanamaki looked up to meet Iwaizumi’s eyes.. Iwaizumi wasn’t sure if it showed on his own face, but there was a heavy dose of fear running through him as his mind raced, trying to imagine what could have happened to Oikawa’s phone. Hanamaki hesitated, his eyes searching Iwaizumi’s. “Do you...want to go check on him?” he asked, his voice unsure.

Iwaizumi tugged a hand through his hair. “I do, but…” he glanced around the locker room, where the rest of the team was just about finished changing and were beginning to focus on Iwaizumi’s and Hanamaki’s conversation. Iwaizumi lowered his voice slightly as he finished, “but I can’t leave the team again.”

Matsukawa suddenly appeared behind Hanamaki, whispering something in the other third-year’s ear. Hanamaki nodded, a soft smile on his face, then said to Iwaizumi, “You go take care of our precious captain, alright? We’ll take care of the team for today. Oikawa’ll be fine by next week, right?” He brightened his smile to make up for Iwaizumi’s lack of response, then said, “Also, Mattsun and I need to talk to you. Over the weekend, I mean. It’s about…” he glanced around, seeing other teammates’ curious eyes on him, and vaguely finished, “well...you’ll find out, I suppose. Just don’t forget to call us, ok?”

“Ok, but―” Iwaizumi stammered, but Hanamaki had already picked up Iwaizumi’s bag and was shoving it into the spiker’s arms. 

“You go to Oikawa, alright?” Hanamaki ordered with a conspiratorial smile, which unnerved Iwaizumi somehow. “Mattsun and I have this.” 

  


* * *

  


“Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whined under his breath, wishing he could call his friend. The ringing in his ears echoed until it sounded like the ringing of his phone, which he knew was impossible, since he’d already destroyed it. He glared at the broken pieces against the wall, as if it was their own fault―which, in a way, it was. Oikawa felt like a mess; he was skittish, jumping at every noise and movement and shadow in his room. He hadn’t left his bed for the entire day. His heart wouldn’t stop racing, and though he’d finally gained control of his breath after he’d passed out, it still felt as though his lungs didn’t want to be filled with air.

With a shaky exhale, Oikawa lifted a trembling hand to wipe at the tears that had been continuously streaming down his face. His eyes felt dried out and puffy, and his throat felt thick and swollen from all the crying. There was a rock in his chest, weighing him down and making it only that much harder to inhale. _I never should’ve told Iwa-chan to go,_ Oikawa thought to himself, feeling regret pool with the self-hatred over his own disgusting selfishness in his already too-heavy chest, _I should’ve known I couldn’t handle a day without him, I need him too badly. I’m such a horrible person, taking over his life like that. I’m so selfish. I should be better by now. Ushiwaka was right. I am weak._

He huddled in on himself, trembling uncontrollably, his teeth clacking together from the force of the violent shudders that ran through his body. As his fear urged him to embrace his self-centered greed, Oikawa whimpered, “Iwa-chan...I need you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I did some research after I wrote this and I realized that it's incredibly rare to faint during a panic attack, since fainting requires low blood pressure and panic attacks tend to raise a person's blood pressure, but the fainting thing worked in my story so I hope you can all just ignore the fact that it's a little untrue.
> 
> Anyway, review please, tell me what you think!


	10. Scared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyyy guyyyyys....
> 
> Sooo...sorry about being like nine months late on this, but who's counting?? Anyway, this is just a super short chapter that I had half-written and couldn't finish for so long that I just decided to put it up as is, 'cause I've made all of you (whoever is still here) wait long enough. I'm really hoping to update all of my previously abandoned stories soon, but no promises! Anyway, read the thing. And thanks for sticking around!

“What the hell is wrong, Tooru?” Iwaizumi muttered under his breath as the call failed to connect once again. He tossed his cell phone back into his bag with an angry exhale. He felt the worry rush through his body in the pulse of blood through his veins, in the twitch and jerk of every muscle, in the unnatural crawling of his skin. _Something’s seriously wrong._

He shifted his bag higher up on his shoulder and broke into a run.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Oikawa was in bad shape. That was the simplest description. But nothing was ever simple in his life.

The house was silent, save for the sobs and sniffles in the bedroom. He was crying hard, the heavy kind of crying that took over his entire body and made him shake and shudder and made each breath a struggle. It was the kind of crying that wouldn’t let his lungs rest, that wouldn’t let the tears stop flowing from his eyes. It was the kind of crying that made him physically ache in so many ways, that made his eyes sting and his head feel like it was about to break apart. It was the kind of crying that made him feel dizzy and disconnected from the rest of the world, all alone in a sea of tears. It was the kind of crying that made him so miserable it was all he could do to keep going.

It was the kind of crying that made him see how scared and alone he really was. It was the kind of crying that he hated most of all.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The run home seemed to take forever. Iwaizumi found himself speeding up, faster and faster until he was sprinting down the blocks, house after house passing in a flash. His mind was dominated by a single thought: _Get to Tooru as fast as possible._ He felt the fear rising in his chest, telling himself it was irrational and that his friend was probably fine...but there was still that voice screaming in the back of his mind that something was off. 

_Just a little more…_ Iwaizumi panted, sprinting down his street and skidding to a stop in front of Oikawa’s house, legs trembling as he breathlessly unlocked the door with shaking hands, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it pulse through his fingertips and echo in his head.

When Iwazumi entered the house, it was worryingly silent. His bag hit the ground before he even realized it slipping from his numb fingers. His heart in his throat, he rushed towards the bedroom, a sudden smell hitting his nose and making him wince. His eyes found the floor first, catching the bile next to the bed, before his gaze snapped up to find Oikawa― _Tooru, my God, Tooru_ ―curled in on himself. Sick covered his shirtfront, and the setter let out a whimper upon seeing Iwaizumi’s figure in the doorway. 

“Tooru…” Iwaizumi breathed, passing a shaking hand over his forehead before crossing the room to hover over the bed, carefully avoiding the puddle of vomit. “My God, are you alright?” _Stupid question,_ he immediately scolded himself, watching Oikawa’s lips tremble as he tried to speak. 

Oikawa wordlessly shook his head, his breath hitching, and Iwaizumi reached over to grab his trembling hands, holding them between his own. “Hey, hey...” Iwaizumi tried to make his voice soft, though even he could hear the concern that leaked through his words and made everything else catch in his throat. He swallowed and tried again. “I’m here, Tooru.” 

With a shaky sigh, Oikawa leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Iwaizumi’s chest. “I was…” Oikawa’s voice was hoarse and hesitant, “I was scared, Iwa-chan.” And _fuck,_ if that didn’t wrap a cold hand of fear around Iwaizumi’s heart and chill him to the bone, because _Oikawa Tooru is never scared, he would never admit to being scared,_ and with a dose of his own fear it hit Iwaizumi that _this is real, this is him now, he’s scared and he’s hurting and there’s nothing I can do about it._ Iwaizumi disentangled one hand to hold the back of Oikawa’s chest, bringing him closer in a one-armed hug. 

“You’re ok now,” Iwaizumi murmured, his mouth brushing the soft curls of Oikawa’s hair. He squeezed his friend’s hand, relieved when Oikawa returned the pressure. After a long moment, Oikawa’s trembling subsided, and Iwaizumi knew he had to get Oikawa up. “Tooru,” he whispered, drawing his arm from Oikawa’s back and holding the setter’s long, calloused fingers in his hands. “Tooru, we need to get you cleaned up.”

“Yeah,” Oikawa barely breathed, his voice nearly gone. But he was sitting up on his own and edging towards the bed, and Iwaizumi offered him a hand but Oikawa stood on his own and it prompted a strange fluttery warmth in Iwaizumi’s chest as he watched.

“I’ll go run a bath,” Iwaizumi said, aware that he had gone silent and was staring at Oikawa’s barely-shaking knees. “Are you ok?”

Oikawa gave a laugh at that, and Iwaizumi’s chest tightened. “No,” the setter whispered, “But I will be.”

“‘Course you will,” Iwaizumi forced a smile, then headed to the bathroom, quickly starting the water. Steam began to curl up from the water as the bathtub filled, fogging the mirror. Iwaizumi leaned against the tiled wall for a while, just breathing in the humid air. _I really hope he can be ok after this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone wants to provide any inspiration or motivation for me to write more on this story, yell at me all you want in the comments!


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